“Make no mistake about it,” Nagel said. “I am not suggesting Sasha return to Threshold as it was. I will tolerate zero further testing on Sasha Vesna. Period. She will return as the program’s most valuable and cherished asset, to be treated as such, and to live well. Sasha is a triumph—she represents the program’s greatest victory to date, and her presence offers an invaluable research opportunity. I will stress to the director that Threshold’s experimentation on this woman’s brain most likely exacerbated her mental condition, if not caused it altogether. In other words, I will make him understand that Sasha’s mental well-being is the agency’s ultimate moral responsibility. In the end, Director Judd will be highly motivated to ensure Sasha’s overall health—especially knowing I will be watching with my finger on a trigger.”

  A long silence fell between them, and Langdon found himself in the throes of the quintessential archetypal battle—the Apollonian-Dionysian conflict, as it was known in mythology—the ultimate internal struggle. Brain versus Heart. Langdon’s Apollonian brain saw order and reason in Nagel’s plan, while his Dionysian heart saw chaos and injustice.

  “You paint a nice picture,” Katherine said, breaking the silence. “But Sasha never asked to have Threshold in her life.”

  “Nor did you, Dr. Solomon, and yet here we are.” Nagel’s gaze was unflinching now. “We all must play the cards we are dealt. In order for Sasha Vesna to live a healthy life, she will need to interact in some capacity with Project Threshold. The level of her involvement can be her own decision, and perhaps only in those parts of the project related to consciousness research. But once Sasha’s mental state is stable, I have to believe that being part of a team might even provide her a purpose and a status unlike anything she has ever experienced in her life.”

  Langdon felt wary. We all need purpose. But what Nagel was describing relied on the agency doing the right thing, and Langdon had little confidence in that.

  “I realize trust may be hard to summon in this case,” Nagel continued, as if sensing Langdon’s hesitation. “Especially after all you’ve witnessed with the agency. But please remember, your experience was with Everett Finch. You will now be dealing with Director Gregory Judd. His mistake was giving Finch too much leeway, but I have always found Judd to be a decent man in a world of indecent options. If nothing else, he is honest.”

  “Honest?” Katherine challenged. “You were his senior counsel, and still he lied to you—telling you Stargate had failed.”

  Nagel gave a dismissive wave. “DBD protocol—disinformation by deception. It’s a common compartmentalization tactic. False narratives protect employees who don’t need to know the truth. We all lie better when we actually believe the lie we’re telling. And obviously Stargate was not the only classified project the agency lied about and then rebooted. If my trust in Director Judd is misplaced,” the ambassador concluded, “I will remind him of the sword of Damocles over his head, making it crystal clear that I have every intention of bringing it down should the agency not meet its moral obligations to Sasha.”

  The three sat silently in the ornate office. “Not to mention,” the ambassador added, “in almost any other scenario, Sasha will be unprotected—and quite possibly detained and prosecuted for treason, terrorism, and murder.”

  Katherine turned slowly to Langdon, her eyes still tentative, but a tired nod delivered a clear message. I will follow your lead on this.

  Langdon pictured Sasha locked up downstairs, and his heart went out to her. Despite profound concerns about the ambassador’s plan, Langdon saw no better option. As hard as it was to admit, the absolute safest place on earth for Sasha Vesna was probably in Langley, Virginia. It felt paradoxical to Langdon that Sasha’s oppressors would now become her guardians…but it was also somehow…unavoidable.

  Perhaps even ingenious.

  The fact that Sasha had materialized outside the embassy made Langdon wonder if her mysterious golem guardian might already have thought all this through. He had provided Nagel the leverage required to take the upper hand…and then made the simplest of appeals.

  Please help Sasha.

  Now, as Langdon considered everything the ambassador had just proposed, he heard a single unanswered question echoing in his mind.

  Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?

  Despite having never studied Latin, Ambassador Nagel recognized the question Langdon had just posed. It was the ubiquitous battle cry of antigovernment whistleblowers everywhere.

  Who will guard the guards?

  It was a fair question, and one asked with increasing frequency. In this case, the CIA would be watching over Sasha…but who would be watching over the CIA? Even if Nagel threatened to release the video in response to violated protocols, she would have no reliable way to know if protocols were being followed unless she had a trusted source right there…in the middle of it.

  Who will guard the guards?

  Nagel realized she already knew the answer, and when she spoke it out loud, she heard a purpose in her voice that had been absent for years.

  “I will,” she said, raising her eyes to Langdon.

  As she made the vow, Nagel felt a sudden upwelling of emotion, and she realized that caring for Sasha Vesna might actually be the exact redemption her own battered soul required…a gradual atonement for her complacency and fear for her part in all that had transpired in Prague.

  I will never make up for Michael Harris…but I can try.

  CHAPTER 134

  Alone, Langdon ran his hand along the iron banister as he descended the marble staircase outside the ambassador’s office. He felt unsteady about what lay ahead—not only in the next few minutes, but also in the coming months.

  Nagel will guard the guards? he wondered, reflecting on the conversation they had just had in her office. She intended to monitor Threshold personally, establishing herself as a kind of inspector general, or perhaps even director, for the next iteration of the project. Rebuilding Threshold, she had insisted, was critical to national security and also the right thing to do…but it had to be done in the right way.

  “The high ground can be defended only if we are actually on it,” Nagel had said. “I will be an on-site, personal advocate for Sasha Vesna—her living conditions, her safety, and her mental well-being. I will do the same for those who will participate in the program in the future.” Nagel paused and let out a barely audible sigh. “Having oversight will give me something crucial as well—the opportunity to redeem myself and the terrible mistakes I’ve made.”

  Langdon sensed a deep well of emotion fueling her words.

  “The more I consider it,” she continued, “the more I truly believe this will be the best outcome for Sasha, for the CIA, and also for us. But before I call Director Judd and inform him exactly what he will be doing for us…with us…there’s one remaining hurdle to jump.”

  “Sasha…” Katherine said. “You have to convince her.”

  Nagel nodded. “Her full consent to this plan is crucial…Without it, none of this happens. I promise you this agency will never again force her—or anyone for that matter—into participating in something against her will or without her knowledge.”

  Langdon appreciated the sentiment. “It’s hard to know if she’ll agree.”

  “The answer, I imagine, resides in how she is asked.”

  Spoken like a true diplomat, Langdon thought. “Do you think you can persuade her?”

  “I’ve never properly spoken to the woman, so no, I don’t believe I can,” Nagel replied, studying him intently. “But I suspect you might.”

  Langdon cocked his head. “I’m sorry? You want me to talk to Sasha?” Nagel had said earlier she would need Langdon’s help, but this was not what he had envisioned.

  “Of the three people in this room, Professor, you are the only one who has spent any time with Ms. Vesna. Sadly, you might be the only person left in her world to whom she would actually be willing to talk.”

  That thought hung in the silence for a moment. “Actually,” Langdon countered, “at the moment I’m not even sure whom I met today. It felt like I was with Sasha, at least some of the time, but in many ways, it makes more sense that I was with her alter—pretending to be her and orchestrating everything that was happening. I would have no way to know.”

  “Regardless,” the ambassador said, “whoever you were dealing with today, you were helpful and kind, and that person seemed to take notice. After all, he protected you not once but twice.”

  True, Langdon realized, recalling how he was urged to flee Threshold and also being tricked to leave Sasha’s apartment prior to Harris’s murder.

  “Sasha has shown she trusts you,” Nagel continued. “I am curious, hypothetically speaking, what you think would convince her to put her trust in us, in me, in this plan, and in a new life in America?”

  Langdon was starting to suspect it might not be a very hard sell at all. “I would simply remind her that this proposal, in many ways, is her dream come true. And depending on how much she actually recalls or understands about what has happened to her, I would impress on her that the way forward will require forgiveness—not just on her part—but for everyone involved. Bilateral absolution. Her alter will understand that as well. Sasha will need to forgive the agency that horribly betrayed her, and the agency will need to forgive the subject who took revenge on the people and secret facility that harmed her. If both Sasha and the agency can leave the past in the past and agree to a mutual pardon for the greater good, then there exists a shared future that benefits everyone.”

  Nagel and Katherine exchanged an impressed nod, and the ambassador said, “Which is precisely why I asked you, Professor.”

  Langdon cracked the door to the embassy’s oak-paneled conference room and peered inside. At the far end of a very long table, Sasha Vesna was seated alone. Her blond hair was tangled and wet, her face drawn. A towel was draped over her shoulders, and a half-eaten meal sat before her. Her hands were in her lap, no doubt bound.

  Langdon studied her a long moment before entering and closing the door behind him. He slowly approached with a soft smile. “Hi, Sasha.”

  She looked more wary than happy to see him.

  “I’m relieved you’re safe,” Langdon offered, choosing a seat about ten feet away from her.

  “Thank you,” she said, studying him with an uncertain look.

  Langdon suddenly sensed this meeting would not be the warm and fuzzy reunion the ambassador had predicted. “Sasha,” Langdon began, “I’m here because I have important information for you, and I want to be sure that I deliver it”—he paused, searching for the words—“in a way that makes the most sense to you.”

  “Okay,” she said, giving him nothing.

  Langdon took a moment, gathering his thoughts, and then spoke as calmly as his unsettled state would allow. “Sasha, I understand that you came here tonight asking for help. I’m pleased to report that the ambassador very much wants to help you. She is aware that you feel you’re in danger, and she wants to protect you and make you feel safe. She has a plan to do exactly that. I’ve heard her plan—it’s not a perfect solution, but it’s the best one available…and the ambassador believes it is your best chance to enjoy a safe and relatively normal life. I have to agree.”

  Sasha’s expression seemed to brighten slightly.

  “Before I explain the idea to you,” Langdon said, “I’m sorry, but I need to ask you an unusual question. It may sound quite strange…but it’s absolutely critical that you reply with full honesty. None of this can happen without that.” Langdon paused, fixing her pale eyes with his firm gaze. “Forgive me for asking, but I need to know—with whom am I speaking right now? Is this you, Sasha?”

  The young woman studied Langdon for a long moment and then shook her head. “No,” she replied in a deep, hollow voice. “For Sasha’s own safety, I have not released her yet.”

  CHAPTER 135

  Katherine sat up abruptly on the ambassador’s couch, realizing she had drifted off. Robert had not yet returned, and the ambassador was at her window, staring blankly into the darkness. Hearing Katherine stir, Nagel turned back into the room and checked her watch.

  “Half an hour,” she said. “They’re still talking.”

  “It could be a good sign,” Katherine offered. “Robert can be…meticulous.”

  “I’ve noticed,” Nagel said, coming over to sit with Katherine. “He took me aside earlier and interrogated me from every angle about your missing manuscript, demanding I order the CIA to return it.”

  “And?” Katherine pressed, hopeful.

  Nagel shook her head. “Sadly, the director confirmed that Q’s operations team destroyed all copies.”

  Katherine scoffed. “I don’t believe them.”

  “It tracks, unfortunately. After WikiLeaks, we implemented rigid new protocols governing the immediate disposal of information the agency deemed damaging. I’m sorry, but I do believe the book is gone.”

  Katherine picked at the couch, trying not to think of all she had lost. “You know, it’s pretty ironic the CIA destroyed the book. In reality, the ideas in it could have given the agency a fresh perspective on terror management theory.”

  Nagel looked surprised by the comment. “You wrote about TMT?”

  “It’s quite relevant to my work.” As it is to yours.

  Terror management theory was utilized by military intelligence to predict a population’s reaction to certain threats. Its findings were well established. Human anxiety had countless sources—fear of nuclear war, terrorism, financial ruin, loneliness—and yet TMT had established that the predominant fear and strongest motivator behind human behavior was, undeniably…the fear of death. When a person was terrified that he or she might die, the brain employed extremely well-defined strategies to “manage” that terror.

  Under normal circumstances, our unpleasant knowledge that we will die—known as “mortality salience”—was managed through a wide range of strategies, including denial, spirituality, mindfulness practices, and various types of philosophical reflection.

  Under extreme circumstances, however—war, crime, violent confrontations—people behaved predictably across all demographics; they would either battle to the death to save themselves…or flee the threat. This was known classically as the fight-or-flight response, and for military strategists, it was particularly helpful to predict which of the two would occur.

  “As it turns out,” Katherine said, “fight or flight is not the brain’s only response to the fear of death. There is something more gradual that occurs, over many years, as we begin to fear our world is unsafe…as so many people now do.”

  “It’s a fear based on sound logic,” Nagel said.

  “Every day, we’re exposed to graphic media coverage reminding us of our collapsing environment, increased threat of nuclear war, coming pandemics, genocide, the world’s endless atrocities. All of this triggers the brain’s terror management strategy to run in the background, at a low level—not yet in fight-or-flight mode, but…anticipating the worst. In essence, the more terrifying our world becomes, the more time we spend preparing subconsciously for death.”

  Nagel looked uncertain where all this was going. “Prepare for death…how?”

  “I think the answer to that will surprise you,” Katherine said. “It certainly did me. While researching mortality salience and the brain, I found that an increased fear of death produced a consistent array of behavioral responses—all of them selfish.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Fear makes us selfish,” Katherine said. “The more we fear death, the more we cling to ourselves, our belongings, our safe spaces…to that which is familiar. We exhibit increased nationalism, racism, and religious intolerance. We flout authority, ignore social mores, steal from others to provide for ourselves, and become more materialistic. We even abandon our feelings of environmental responsibility because we sense the planet is a lost cause and we’re all doomed anyway.”

  “That’s alarming,” Nagel said. “Those are precisely the behaviors that fuel global unrest, terrorism, cultural division, and war.”

  “Yes, and that make the CIA’s job so difficult. Unfortunately, it becomes a hall of mirrors. The worse things get, the worse we behave. And the worse we behave, the worse things get.”

  “And it’s your theory that this troubling pattern stems from humans’ fear of death?”

  “It’s not my theory,” Katherine said. “It’s scientifically proven in mountains of statistical evidence gathered through observational analysis, behavioral experiments, and scientific polling. The most important point in the research, however, shows that those who do not fear death, for whatever reason, tend to exhibit behavior that is more benevolent, accepting of others, cooperative, and caring about the environment. Essentially, this means that if we could all free our minds of the burden, of the terror we feel about death…”

  “Then we would find ourselves in a dramatically improved world.”

  “Precisely,” Katherine said. “To quote the great Czech psychiatrist Stanislav Grof, ‘The elimination of the fear of death transforms the individual’s way of being in the world.’ Grof believes that a radical inner transformation of consciousness might be our only hope of surviving the global crisis brought on by the Western mechanistic paradigm.”

  “Well, if that’s true,” Nagel offered as she poured more coffee, “perhaps we should spike the world’s water supply with antianxiety meds.”

  Katherine chuckled. “I’m not sure Xanax is the existential answer, but there is hope on the near horizon.”

  Nagel paused mid-sip. “Oh?”

  “As I wrote in my manuscript, I believe our views on death are about to change. Top scientists around the world are increasingly convinced that reality is not at all as we believe. This includes the provocative idea that death is, quite possibly, an illusion…that our consciousness survives physical death and lives on. If this is true, and if we can prove it, then within several generations, the human mind will function under an entirely different premise—the belief that death is not so terrifying after all…”